Way Over Yonder
by lks358
Summary: Spring break, 1977. Christine and Meg make a pilgrimage across the country with some unexpected results. Road trip AU, oneshot. Written for LittleLongHairedOutlaw's AU contest.


The side of Christine's face had grown hot in the patch of sun streaming through the window, but no matter how she shifted on the worn passenger seat of the old Beetle, she couldn't get out of the light.

"Meg, where'd the map go?" she said as she dug through the glove box to no avail.

"I think it's in the back seat."

Turning and pulling her legs up under her, Christine leaned over uncomfortably until she could reach into the back. She pushed aside a few scattered fast food wrappers before her fingers brushed the smooth edges of the road map, and she righted herself with a small groan, brushing her dark curls out of her eyes. It took a moment to find where they must be now—it had been a while since they'd passed through a town—but if she was right, they'd be heading more westwardly soon and she'd be spared from that persistent spot of sun.

"Worried we're lost?" Meg asked with a wry smile that Christine couldn't help but return.

"Nope. Just seeing where we're going."

While this trip had technically been Christine's idea in that she'd been the one to say she wanted to do it, Meg was unquestionably the one responsible for putting it into action. They had been sitting in the library between classes a few weeks ago when Christine had offhandedly mentioned wanting to visit the spot where her parents had met.

"Okay," Meg had replied, and Christine had looked up from the notes she'd been halfheartedly studying, her brow furrowed.

"Okay, what?"

"I mean let's do it. Spring break is coming up. We could make it to California and back in a week."

"Are you serious?" Christine had laughed, but Meg had only shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

"You would spend _days_ in a car with me just to go see some little park in San Francisco that has no significance to you?"

"I think it'd be fun." It was almost childlike how much Meg's face lit up when she got excited about something, and Christine had known her enthusiasm would quickly become infectious. "C'mon, Chris. We can pack a cooler full of sandwiches and drink too much gas station coffee and blast the radio with the windows down. Plus, I've always wanted to see San Francisco."

Meg must have been able to see her warming to the idea, because she continued, picking up steam.

"And really, what were you planning on doing during the break anyway? Staying here and studying? There's plenty of time for that when school's in. We have a car, no supervision, and, at least for a week, no responsibilities. This is the most freedom we've ever had in our lives, and what's the point if we don't take advantage of it?"

And now here they were, nearly to California, with nothing but open road ahead of them and Nevada desert around them.

The spring day was pleasantly warm, and Christine cranked down her window to put her arm out, letting the air hit her outstretched palm hard. For a moment she imagined that she was flying; she felt lighter than she had in over a year. Glancing over at Meg, she caught her watching. She quickly returned her gaze to the road when Christine met her eyes, but Christine could see the small smile that lingered on her lips as strands of blonde hair whipped around her face, and something about the expression made her heart beat a little faster.

They drove in silence for a while longer before pulling over at a rest stop. Meg eagerly hopped out of the car, stretching her arms over her head and taking in the vast nothingness around them. Christine was a little slower to climb out, her legs stiff and her back a little sore. It always amazed her how Meg seemed to have a constant reserve of energy when part of her was already looking forward to stopping for the night and stretching out in a motel bed. Everything that wore her out just seemed to enliven Meg even more.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Meg was saying as she wandered aimlessly around the little parking lot. "You forget how big the country really is when you live in a city. And then you come out here and it's just dirt and brush for miles and miles."

"I liked going through the Rockies yesterday," Christine replied, kicking at a pebble on the pavement. "Going through those passes, completely surrounded by cliffs and trees, and then you get to the top and it's like you're at the very top of the world… it makes you feel so small."

Meg hummed in agreement. "It makes me want to drop out of school and just be a hermit and live in the wilderness. What does a degree in dance matter when places like this exist?"

"You know in _A Star Is Born_ when they build the ranch house? I think that's my ideal version of married life." Meg's expression changed a little at the comment, something almost like sadness crossing her face, but it was gone before Christine knew what to make of it.

"Yeah," Meg said. "That would be nice."

She said nothing more about it, and if there had been a change in her demeanor, it quickly disappeared as they wandered around the rest stop, enjoying the warm, dry air and the feeling of being out of the car. There wasn't much time to spare, though—they couldn't be too leisurely about their drive if they wanted to spend much time in California—and so they quickly ate the sandwiches they had packed before climbing back in the car, Christine taking the wheel this time.

"You know what," she said as she took in the long stretch of highway and sky ahead of them. "Someplace like this would be great to come for stargazing. I bet it'd be beautiful so far from the city lights."

"Didn't you always go stargazing with your dad?"

Christine's smile turned a little sad at the memory. "Yeah. He used to take me all the time, especially when I was little." She glanced over at Meg to find her watching her thoughtfully. It was something she'd come to appreciate about Meg this past year—as sympathetic as she was, she never met Christine's grief with the empty pity that so many people did. She'd never once caught Meg making that that's-so-sad-for-you face.

"Well, let's come out here and do some stargazing, then," Meg said decidedly.

"What, you mean get to our destination and then immediately turn around and drive back to the middle of nowhere?"

"Yeah. I mean, now that you've made it sound so pretty, I have to see it for myself."

Christine couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips as she kept her gaze on the road. "Fine."

They drove into the afternoon without stopping, eager to finish the final stretch of their journey. It wasn't as tiresome as Christine would have expected the last hours of such a long trip to be, though. They sang along to the staticky music on the local radio stations. They talked and laughed until Christine's cheeks ached from smiling. Meg had a way of putting her completely at ease without her even realizing; she felt very much like _herself_ with Meg.

Not too far outside the city, they were forced to stop for gas. An attendant came out to fill the car, and Meg hopped out while he worked. "I'm going to run in and get some snacks," she said, nodding toward the small shop across from the gas pumps.

"Sounds good." Christine pulled herself from her seat, taking the opportunity to stretch a little while she waited for the attendant to finish. As she stood waiting, she caught the eye of the man on the other side of the pump, who gave her a grin and a wink. She blushed and looked away, hoping that he would simply continue going about his business; she really didn't feel like dealing with flirtatious strangers just now. When she heard someone approaching her a moment later, she looked up hoping to find Meg returning with their snacks but was instead met with the man, clearly getting ready to turn on the charm.

"Hey," he greeted, and she gave him a polite smile.

"Hi."

"You're a long way from home. You come all this way by yourself?"

"No, I'm with my friend. She's just inside." She glanced back toward the gas station, wishing that Meg would return and cut this conversation short.

"Where are you headed?"

"San Francisco," she told him, keeping her expression friendly but her answers brief.

"No way." His smile grew. "I'm on my way to visit some friends out there."

"Really."

"Yeah. I've been a few times. I'd be happy to show you around if you want."

The attendant had finished filling the tank, and Meg was finally heading back toward the car. Christine relaxed a little, seeing her exit. "That's nice of you to offer, but we're not in town long and we already have plans."

"Oh." This clearly wasn't the answer the man had been expecting. "Well, you should at least stop by this party tonight. I'm told it's going to be the place to be. Hold on a sec and I'll get you the address."

The man was hurrying back over to his car before Christine could say anything. Meg appeared beside her, then, leaning against the car and giving her a questioning look. Christine shook her head subtly, but Meg's smirk told her that there was teasing to come. Then the man was back, only giving a fleeting glance to Meg before turning his attention to Christine, handing her the scrap of paper he held.

"Here's the address. I also wrote down the number of the place where I'm staying, in case your plans change."

"Thanks," Christine said, grateful that Meg was climbing into the car so she could move around to the passenger side without seeming rude. "Safe travels."

"Hopefully I'll see you tonight."

Giving him a small wave, Christine lowered herself into Meg's car and closed the door, and then they were off and the gas station was disappearing behind them.

"You should have agreed to go out with him tonight," Meg goaded as they drove. "He was clearly very interested."

Christine rolled her eyes. "And end up spending the night being bored out of my skull with complete stranger rather than going out on our stargazing trip? No thanks. Besides, I'm not sure he's my type."

Meg laughed. "Conventionally attractive isn't your type? Then what is?"

Christine brushed her off. "Hey, I haven't seen _you_ dating anyone lately."

"Just taking a break," Meg said. "Things with Shelly were fun, but I'm thinking the next girl will have to be someone I'm _really_ interested in. I'm tired of casual stuff."

"Well, then, that's what I'm doing too," Christine said decidedly. "I'm done with the casual stuff. I want a relationship that really means something, and I'm not spending my time on anything that doesn't have that potential."

"I bet you won't have to wait long for that," Meg teased. "Not with how you draw people to you. The right guy is bound to come along."

"Maybe," Christine replied, catching Meg's eye for a second. She could feel Meg's gaze on her after she looked away, and she was struck with the urge to say more, but the words were too muddled and uncertain in her mind to really form. When she glanced back at Meg after a moment, she had turned her gaze back to the road.

It wasn't long before they reached the outskirts of the city, and Christine's stomach fluttered. Despite the long hours in the car, she couldn't quite believe they were actually here. She had always loved her dad's stories about his years as a starving artist in San Francisco, even if his present state hadn't been too far from that. She'd been relentless in asking for stories as a child, and eventually he'd turned to telling stories from his own life as if they were fairytales, and the knowledge that the stories were true only captivated her more. Being here was like seeing a part of her dad's life that had been mythical to her until now. Every fiber of her tingled with anticipation at the idea of getting to dive into it.

But there would be time to explore the city tomorrow. It was dusk by the time they checked into the shabby little motel they'd found, and they had barely dropped off their things in their room before piling back into the car and leaving the city behind again. They didn't have a particular destination in mind for stargazing—they had only glanced at the map and determined a general direction to drive in—and by the time they found a suitable place to pull over, it was completely dark out.

The night air was cool, and Christine pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she settled against the hood of the car, the lingering heat from the engine warming the backs of her legs. Meg perched on top of the hood, sitting cross-legged and balancing a thermos of coffee on one knee.

"Okay, you were right," she said, her face turned toward the sky. "This was worth getting back in the car."

"See?" Christine grinned. "The sky totally changes when you get away from all that city light."

"Still think this was worth turning down a date with that guy at the gas station?"

"Absolutely. This is way better."

Meg smiled at this. "I wish I was better at spotting constellations. Astrology, I can do. Astronomy, not so much."

"Dad would always try to show me, but I could only ever see the ones that I made up."

"That's cute," Meg laughed, and Christine felt her cheeks warm. "It is amazing, though. The universe is so big. How can I ever be scared to do something when anything I could do will only have an infinitesimal impact on the universe?"

Christine hummed thoughtfully in reply, not sure of what to say. There was an odd kind of comfort to the thought that their insignificance in the universe meant that there was really nothing to be frightened of; it seemed like there was so much that scared her these days. To be able to make a decision with confidence, to act boldly and without fear… that was certainly something she wished came more easily to her.

For a while they just sat quietly and watched the sky, allowing themselves to get lost in the vastness of it. Gradually thoughts of her dad began to settle over Christine, as they often did at quiet moments. There had been so many nights outside like this with him, even when the cancer had left him weakened and in pain—he had loved these kinds of nights too much to give them up while he was still alive. The weight of that familiar, empty sadness pressed down on her chest.

"Do you think we become stars when we die—that the universe just takes us back? Do we still know who we are?" When no reply came after a few moments, Christine glanced over toward Meg, still seated beside her on the car, her face tilted up to the dark sky.

"I don't know," she said finally. "But it's kind of a nice thought, isn't it? Just being absorbed by the universe, quietly becoming a part of everything."

"I guess so."

There was another long pause before Meg spoke again. "I know how hard it's been on you to lose him," she said gently.

Christine let out a small sigh. "It's weird how even though I had already lost my mom, I just never really imagined that I _could_ lose my dad. I was sure he would always be there for me. It was like he was so essential to my life that it was literally impossible for me to imagine life without him."

"You've been getting by pretty well," Meg said. "I'm sure he'd be glad to know that."

"Getting by, sure. But it kind of feels like I'm sleepwalking, you know? Like I have nowhere to go, so I'm just drifting."

"You'll find somewhere. Eventually."

Christine shook her head, tears pricking at her eyes. "But I just want to go _home_."

She started a bit when she felt Meg put her arm around her shoulders before relaxing gratefully into the touch. How long had it been since someone had held her?

"I know," Meg told her. "I know everyone tells you it will get better with time, and I know how much that sucks, because you don't want it to get better—you want it to go back to the way it was before."

"Exactly." Christine swallowed hard. "But it's not going to go back."

"That doesn't mean you can't wish it would."

They sat in silence for another moment before Christine spoke, her words soft. "How did you deal with it? When they told you your dad wasn't coming home?"

Meg shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "You just deal with it. I was pretty young, of course, and I wasn't the only kid in my class to lose someone to the war. And I had Mom. I guess we just learned to rely on each other."

"It helps," Christine said quietly, almost to herself. "To have someone."

Meg shifted a little to look at her. "You have me, you know."

Christine had to smile a little at this. The sadness that had swept over her didn't lift, exactly; it was more like she had help carrying it. "I know."

* * *

Christine woke the next morning to the sound of the shower running, her eyes still heavy and her mind sluggish as she blinked in the bright light. They had gotten back to the motel late after their stargazing last night, and she had been asleep seconds after crawling into bed. The twin bed across from hers was already neatly made, and again she wondered at Meg's apparently boundless energy when she could feel every single hour they had spent in the car on the way here. Even now that they were in the city, ready to do what they had come here to do, she barely had the will not to let herself fall back to sleep. She sat up in bed and stretched as the water shut off in the bathroom, and a few minutes later Meg appeared, toweling her hair dry and looking as chipper as ever.

"Morning," she greeting, and Christine managed a sleepy smile.

"Morning."

"Today's the big day. Are you excited?"

"I actually really am," Christine said, reluctantly climbing out of bed and running a hand through her tangled hair. "I've wanted to see where Mom and Dad met since I was little. But that's just one thing that we're doing today—we have to do some stuff that'll be fun for you, too."

"I mean, I'm happy just to be out here," Meg replied. "But I did pick up a guide from the check-in desk yesterday, and I have a few ideas."

Meg's ideas, as it turned out, were more of an informal walking tour that took them in a meandering path around the city, heading vaguely in the direction of their main destination. They peered in the windows of fancy clothing stores and stopped in record shops and road the cable car aimlessly up and down streets. Christine found herself laughing and feeling livelier than she had in a long time. Perhaps it was the energy of the city; it was hard to imagine anywhere more vibrant, and the bustle was exhilarating. Even so, she was sure that it wouldn't be the same without Meg beside her with her bubbly laughter and infectious smile. The adventure and the city suited her, and Christine didn't think there was another person in the entire world she'd rather be here with.

By the time they were approaching the park, Christine was tired but entirely content. The day was warm and sunny and Meg was by her side and she couldn't remember the last time she'd just had _fun_ like this. Her mood sobered a little when they reached the park entrance and she finally surveyed the place that marked the start of her parents' romance, a jolt of bittersweet emotion hitting her hard.

As a child, Christine had been so delighted by the idea of her parents' love story that the park where they'd met seemed to be some kind of storybook setting, like some enchanted garden out of a fairytale. Of course, as an adult, she realized that it would just be a park, but part of her was still a little surprised by how perfectly ordinary it was. People strolled through nonchalantly, the concrete paths surrounded by newly sprouted spring bulbs. In the center of the park was the small stone fountain where her dad had been busking. Meg followed her gaze toward the fountain and gave her an encouraging smile, and she stepped forward past the entrance.

"So this is the place?" Meg asked as they approached the fountain.

"Yep. This is where they met." Taking a seat on the edge, Christine paused and looked around. Meg watched her for a moment before sitting down beside her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Christine said, her brow furrowed. "It's just kind of… strange."

"What do you mean?"

She had to think for a second before she answered—she wasn't really sure what she had been expecting from this moment, but it still felt different than she had imagined. "I guess I kind of thought that… I don't know, that there would be something of them here. That I'd be able to feel some kind of connection to them. And, obviously, it's just a park. We could be anywhere right now and it wouldn't feel any different. I don't know why I've built this place up so much."

Meg shrugged. "I dunno, I think I get it. This spot was significant to your parents, and you're just trying to feel close to them."

"It's silly, though, isn't it?" Christine said with a small, humorless laugh. "I mean, we came all the way out here for this. But it's not like they're here. It's not like being here is going to change the fact that I've lost both of them."

"It doesn't have to," Meg told her. "You're allowed to appreciate something that was significant to them and still be sad that they're gone. There doesn't need to be some deep meaning to you or some big revelation or moment of healing or whatever. You can just be here and remember them."

Christine turned to her with a faint smile. "You know you're too good to me."

"I'm really not. You're just hard on yourself sometimes."

"Well, then, I'm lucky to have you to balance me out."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, just watching the people go by and the birds flit through the budding trees, and Christine gradually began to feel more peaceful. She thought of her mom throwing some change in her dad's violin case even though she didn't exactly have money to spare, and her dad giving her his warm grin and a flirtatious wink that kept her there to listen. They'd ended up standing by the fountain and talking for an hour.

"Mom and Dad were lucky," she said, and Meg looked at her questioningly. "They knew right away that they loved each other. They never had to think about it or question it. They just knew, and that was it."

"Love's not that easy for most people," Meg replied with a small smile.

"No. But I like to think that it always works out eventually." Christine held her gaze as she spoke and after a second of hesitation, Meg reached out and entwined their fingers. Christine glanced down, surprised by the contact, and Meg quickly pulled her hand away, blushing furiously.

"Sorry, Chris, I—"

"Don't be sorry," Christine said quickly, and Meg paused.

"No?"

Christine shook her head and gently took Meg's hand again. "No."

Meg's smile was uncharacteristically shy for a moment before she broke into a grin. Christine laughed a little, the joy and exhilaration of the moment bubbling up in her. Emboldened, she leaned into Meg, resting her head on her shoulder.

"Would you build a ranch house with me?" she said softly. She could feel Meg rest her cheek against the top of her head.

"Of course."


End file.
